Dark are the woods and wild is the willow
Swift is the silence passing over the meadow
Blasted be the breeze that brings with it sorrow
Calmed by the screams that cannot see the morrow
Nepenthe ease the pain that's as cold as the river
Sun heat the day that makes my soul shiver
Swift be the arrow from my bow from my quiver
Sharp be its point and to black hearts deliver
For a darkness has taken this once prosperous land
That which stood firm has crumbled to sand
But that which forsakes shall soon pack up and flee
For by arrow and blade these lands shall be free
The sorrow is planted in root, branch and see
The vast cry of nature heeds me and mine steed
We ride down the sorrow and with it we go
To another dimension not above nor below
Life floods the woods and with joy weeps the willow
Bird song breaks the silence that troubled the meadow
A fresh scented breeze has blown out of sorrow
An air of sweet laughter awaits for the morrow.